


Blue of Eye and Black of Hair

by Codydarkstalker



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - The Battle of the Blackwater, F/M, King Stannis, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Ramsay is His Own Warning, Robb Lives, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 13:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18852466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codydarkstalker/pseuds/Codydarkstalker
Summary: Queen Sansa's first child is a beautiful boy. Healthy and happy, and large despite his seemingly premature birth, with a mess of black hair and greyish blue eyes. Sansa dotes on the boy, saying he takes after his father.





	Blue of Eye and Black of Hair

**Author's Note:**

> So basically I was doing some cleaning and had this idea and had to stop doing dishes to get this down. Please excuse the wonky timeline and hopefully enjoy Sansa being in a relationship with two grumpy old men.

“You’re not a maid?” Stannis’ voice was even harsher than usual and there was a vein throbbing on his forehead. “Damn!”

 

Sandor Clegane watched the other man as he turned and paced in front of the fire. Stannis Baratheon, first of his name, king of the seven kingdoms and the bloody rest of the mess. The man had been locked inside the small council chambers ever since he had taken the keep. It had been a hard fought battle coming up the Blackwater, but he had managed to land his ships despite the volley of arrows and make for the shoreline. 

 

At one point King Joffrey, pale faced and sweating in his golden armor, had called for wildfire to be throw at the enemy, but the soldiers at his side had seen the way he turned craven and ran back to his mother and safety, and laid down their swords. Once the boy was lacking his bodygaurd Clegane, it had seemed most of the fight had gone out of him.

 

Sandor had run from the fighting at the first chance he had, had been planning on it ever since Tyrion lannister, of all people, had warned him of the wildfire stockpiled and told him to keep sansa Stark safe. The Imp had taken advantage of the chaos to deal with his own fight. In the cover of darkness, he had snuck into the tower of the hand and killed his father with a crossbow. The Lion of the Rock had died taking a shit, not what Sandor had expected of the old man, but nothing had gone the way he expected since King Robert died.

 

The King’s death had spelled the end of any peace and quiet in King’s Landing. It had been followed by the death of the Hand, the rise of Joffrey, a new Mad King in the making, and the sudden appearance of a score of would be kings, from the little wolf boy in the North to the late Renley Baratheon. Through it all, The Hound had been a loyal dog for the Lannisters. He had stood by and watched as Ned Stark’s head was removed from his body. He had watched Joffrey insult and scare Sansa Stark. Had said nothing when the rumors of the incestuous relationship between Jaime and Cersei came to light. After all that hadn’t really been news to him. There was no sin he thought himself capable of caring about. He kept his head down, as much as a man his size really could, and did his damned job.

 

Until the day of the bread riots. He knew he should have left sansa Stark behind. When she fell into the hands of the crowd, she should have been dead to him. His job was to protect Joffrey, not to babysit a chirping little bird. But he had seen her face, the terror in those big blue eyes, and he could remember those eyes filled with tears on so many occasions. And suddenly his body was moving, he was cutting men down, breath coming hard as he hacked his way through the crowd and snatched her off the ground, the head of the man crouching above her rolling into the dirt. 

 

Her dress had been ripped. Pulled away from her pretty neck so he could see the shape of her shoulder. He could see how pale the skin was, the delicate dusting of freckles, and the bruises, old and yellowing, that joffrey had left on her when he steered her up the ramparts to see her father’s head on a spike. Sandor should have ignored that, should have ignored her crying and her shivering. But when he knelt to wrap his cloak around her shoulders and cover her, she had thrown her arms around his neck and buried her face under his chin, weeping as she clung to him desperately. And now she was weeping again. 

 

Sandor clenched his fists at his side and tried his best to keep his head down. He knew if he looked up at the Little Bird it would all be over. There was no way he could still his tongue or his hands if he saw the tears streaming down her face. It was hard enough to stand there silently and hear her crying, the little delicate sniffles just the same as they had been when she was a girl crying over her lost wolf.   
  


“I-I am sorry my lord, My Grace. But no, no I am not.” Sansa choked on another cry, burying her face in her hands. 

 

Stannis turned to his Hand, Davos Seaworth and took a long breath through his teeth as though in pain. “Tyrion Lannister swore on his life and the lives of his niece and nephew he did not bed you.” Stannis slammed a hand down on the table, upsetting the piles of scrolls that covered it. “He swore he had not  _ touched _ you!”

 

Davos nodded. ‘Indeed Your Grace, that is what the Imp said, and his...woman seemed certain of it too.” Davos reddened a bit at the thought of Shae, he was used to women in such lines of work, but it had been strange to sit and question a whore, and more strange still to have her answer so calmly, her eyes never breaking contact with his own. He had not been inclined to think she had lied.

 

Sansa drew in another shuddering breath. “Your Grace. Lord Tyrion did not lie, he has never touched me or used me wrongly or rightly, even after our marriage.”

 

Stannis spun around and grabbed the girl by the wrist suddenly, forcing her hands away from her face. Sandor’s fingers moved closer to his sword as he watched. He wouldn’t let another King, another man, hurt his Little Bird. He couldn’t let it happen again.

 

“If not your lord husband than who? Joffrey?” Stannis stared into the tear filled blue eyes, grinding his teeth in obvious anger. “Are you carrying the false king’s bastard girl?” His fingers tightened around Sansa’s wrist and the girl cried out and crumpled to the floor, unable to support her own weight as the sobs took away the last of her strength. 

 

Davos watched with a grim face. “Your Grace, if she truly carried Joffrey's child…” He let his voice trail off but his meaning was obvious. Such a child could not be allowed to live. Maybe even it’s mother could not.

 

Sandor broke then, at the thought of them hurting her again, and at the thought of them hurting any life that could have grown inside her.

 

“It was me.” His voice was low and rough, but it seemed to cut through the sound of Sansa weeping.

 

The room went silent. Stannis released sansa as if her skin burned him and turned to the Hound, dark blue eyes going wide. “You, dog? You dared rape a girl in the care of the royal family? A girl from a noble house?” His hand was moving towards his own sword belt, his intent obvious. Rape was a crime punishable by death when it meant the ruin of a noble lady. More so if the lady in question was a valuable piece in the game, the last lady of her house.

 

Sansa struggled to her feet, tripping over her skirts as she threw herself between the two men. “NO!”

 

Stannis hesitated a moment, clearly struggling to keep calm. “Lady Sansa, please step aside.” he grimaced and Sandor fancied he could hear the crack of the man’s jaw protesting as he ground his teeth together.

 

Sansa shook her head wildly, her hair coming loose from it’s simple braid. “No, My Grace, I-I cannot allow you to this, it would not be right, it would not be justice.” She reached back and grabbed the corner of the white Kingsguard cloak that Sandor still wore, worrying the cloth between her fingers. “Sandor Clegane is no rapist. I did lie with him, but of my own choosing.”

 

Sandor cursed under his breath. It would have been better for the girl if she lied, though she had never been good at it. Stannis’ interest in her maidenhead could only mean one thing. He planned to take the girl for a wife, a new queen to broker peace with her brother, the King in the North. If she claimed rape and was found not to be with child, maybe she could still have that deal, have her pretty dresses and pretty life in the capital, caring for pretty little princes and princesses. 

 

Stannis turned to Davos, a distraught look on his face. It was clear that crying women and illegitimate children were not issues he usually dealt with and the warrior was out of his depth. 

 

“Your Grace, you could simply wait to see if the girl is with child, and write and tell Robb Stark in the meanwhile. It would take some time for him to arrive in King’s Landing and by then it would be clear,” Davos offered, glancing down at the papers on the floor. 

 

Stannis snorted. “Yes, but if I am unable to marry his sister, he might reconsider his peace with the South, so he would arrive along with a very large army of Northmen and fighters from the riverlands. I can’t risk that.”  Stannis turned and eyes Sansa and Sandor. The large man had crouched on the floor and was making an attempt to calm the girl, speaking quietly to her in his rough voice. “Clegane, come here.”

 

Sandor took a deep breath and stood up to his full heigh, pushing his shoulders back to give himself a more intimidating stance. Stannis was no small man, but he was bigger than the king in both height and width, and reminding him wouldn’t hurt. He stood very still as the king looked him over, but he let his control slip when Stanis reached out and grabbed him by the chin, pulling his face down so they were eye to eye. He clenched his teeth as Stannis examined him the way a kennel master might a dog, or a horse trader a new foal. 

 

“Grey eyes,” Stannis muttered, his own dark blue eyes narrowing as he furrowed his brow in thought. “Tall, obviously, dark hair…” 

 

Sandor jerked back, the unscarred side of his face flushing red. “What in the seven hells are you on about/”

 

Stannis ignored him and turned to Davos. “Send for a maester to look after Lady Sansa, she can go back to her rooms. And have the servants and septon prepare for the wedding.”

 

Davos, to his credit, hardly hesitated before taking Sansa by the elbow and gently leading her from the room. Sandor waited until the door was shut before turning on the king.

 

“What are you planning to do with her? If you think-” 

 

Stannis held a hand up, clearly not in the mood to listen to a threatening rant. “I do not plan to hurt her, I plan to marry her.”

 

Sandor blinked, mouth hanging open as he processed that. It made no sense. Stannis’ late wife had been a lady from a noble house. No doubt as king he could have his pick of any woman in Westeros. He had no reason to take a girl he had already lain with. “Why?” he finally managed, the word coming out as a croak.

 

Stannis sighed and sat down in one of the high backed chairs at the table. “You know I have no sons, yes?”

 

Sandor gave a small shrug with one shoulder. He vaguely remembered a little girl the last time Stannis had visited the capital, a dark haired girl in the arms of a pale faced woman, neither very pretty. 

 

Stannis continued. “I have a daughter, Shireen. But my late wife, however hard we tried, could no give me more children. Could not give me a son. She drank some potion given to her, that’s what killed her. She just wanted to do what any good wife should do, give me an heir. But now I wonder if it was her fault or mine.” Stannis looked down at his hands, studying them as he spoke. “I have no bastards like my brother. I need an heir and I need peace with the North.”

 

Sandor gave a low chuckle. “So, this is where you kill em right? Marry her soon and people will think it’s your child in her belly. Once I’m dead, it shouldn’t be hard to just pretend, that it?”

 

Stannis looked up from studying his nails, trimmed short and very clean. “No,” He said, a grimace like smile on his face. “You can stay here with her. After all, what if it’s a girl?”

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
